


What's Left

by LibraLibrary



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Amputation, Blood, Mind Manipulation, Nightmares, Torture, and past lewis scares now lewis, lewis has a very bad time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraLibrary/pseuds/LibraLibrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Sorry about that,” he muttered, sounding extremely unapologetic (somewhere in his mind, something compelled him to say it again and mean it this time, but it was drowned out by sourceless wave of rage), “but I think that arm’s caused us enough trouble, hasn’t it?”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An extended look at Lewis's worst nightmare. Companion piece to The Worth of the Anchor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Left

**Author's Note:**

> The plot bunnies for this hit at work when I started getting all the feedback and it just sorta happened. Writing it hurt and someone please save these poor kids.

Lewis didn’t know where the sound of creaking metal and electric crackling was coming from, nor why, exactly, his skeletal fingers were burying dents into the appendage in their grasp as he tugged at it with all his strength. He didn’t understand why his foot was pressing into Arthur’s ribcage, bracing the gasping, whimpering mechanic against the wall as his arm sparked and bled. His mind searched for a justification, any possible reasoning, to explain why he was slowly and, by the sound of it, very painfully, ripping off Arthur’s arm. He found none, and started to wonder if he should stop.

He kept going, and with a hideous screech of metal giving way, the limb detached, dragging half of the docking implant with it. The ghost took a step back, examining the dripping arm (a prosthetic, something in the back of his head was screaming that this was an important detail) as Arthur slid down the wall, gurgling and moaning in shock. The boy blinked back stinging tears, sucking in a huge breath as he looked up at his skeletal assailant. “L...Lew-”

_**CRACK.** _

The metal hand slammed into Arthur’s head with all the force of a baseball bat, and he hit the floor twitching and sputtering around a mouthful of blood and teeth. Lewis tossed the arm over his shoulder, and didn’t even allow himself a moment to wonder why on Earth he had just done something so violent. He stepped over the damaged man, tilting his head as he glared down with a cold fury in his glittering eyes. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, sounding extremely unapologetic (somewhere in his mind, something compelled him to say it again and mean it this time, but it was drowned out by sourceless wave of rage), “but I think that arm’s caused us enough trouble, hasn’t it?”

It _hadn’t;_ at least, it hadn’t caused Lewis any real trouble at all. That was the point, that was the reason it was made of steel and wires instead of flesh and bone. The real arm, the real, honest-to-god source of all their problems, was long gone. Lewis _knew that._

But despite all of that, he crouched down, burning violet eyes locking with half-lidded, tear-filled amber. “Arthur,” he murmured softly, reaching down to wipe a smear of blood from the mechanic’s brilliant red and dark purple cheek, “do you know what all you took from me?”

His touch was as light as a feather, but stung like a hot coal on the battered flesh, and Arthur flinched and choked out a sob. In spite of himself (no, not in spite of himself, it was in his very _nature_ to-), Lewis drew his hand back , and if he had a proper mouth he would be frowning. Something about the clear misery on the smaller boy’s face gave him pause, and for a brief second of clarity, he felt a pang of horror in his chest.

“Leeeew-issssss-”

The words weren’t so much spoken as they dribbled out of Arthur’s mouth with a spatter of blood, and the rage crashed over Lewis once more. His hand returned to Arthur’s face, cupping the damaged cheek and remaining even when the blond twitched and hissed in pain. His voice was low and cold, like a roll of distant but approaching thunder. “You took my life, that’s pretty clear. You took my happiness. You took _Vivi-”_

(Vivi wouldn’t want this, Vivi loved them both, she’d-)

“-You took my _family-”_

(His family was _their_ family, was _all of their family,_ and always had been, and weren’t they planning on visiting them soon anyway, wasn’t he going to see them again-)

“You took my future.”

His hand drifted down the ugly bruise across Arthur’s face, trailing the edges down to the pale mechanic’s neck. He felt a rumbling under his fingers, and only barely heard the choked out whisper.

“‘M…’m sorreeeeeeee…”

“Oh, I know you’re sorry-”

(He did, he really did, so why did he say it in such a cold, mocking way?)

“So you should consider this a mercy.”

His hand clamped down on Arthur’s throat, and the blond jerked in surprise, a desperate gasp dying halfway in under the weight. His right arm twitched and flailed under Lewis’s knee, and when a second hand pressed down on his windpipe, he gurgled and thrashed as much as his bruised body could manage. Lewis put his full weight into it, sockets narrowing into a dark glare as he maintained eye contact with the panicking human. “Consider yourself lucky, _Artie-”_ he spat, “this is all I can take from you. You have _nothing worth losing.”_

(A lie; he had his uncle, and Galahad, and Lewis’s family and Mystery and Vivi and _why was he doing this?)_

Once or twice, Lewis felt his grip loosen, instinctively losing the will to carry on as Arthur’s struggling grew more desperate, then started to taper off. He refused to break eye contact, noting every flash of emotion in the other boy’s stare (sorrow and pain and fear and pleading and finally resignation-) before they rolled back and shut tight, too exhausted to keep them open. Every now and then his gurgled cries carried half a syllable, half a name, but all of his efforts were for naught.

Arthur stopped struggling, and the world around the two was finally silent once more. Lewis blinked, and he shifted his hand to press his thumb just under the man’s jaw. The warm flesh was entirely still, and the ghost’s eyes widened as it set in.

“...Arthur?”

He slowly drew both hands back, watching closely for any stirring, for a little gasp of breath, any sign-

None came. Arthur remained silently sprawled out under the skeleton, head turned and resting on his bruised cheek. Cool tracks of tears shone lightly on the upturned side of his face, and if Lewis didn’t know better, couldn’t still feel the ghost of his seizing windpipe under his fingers, he might’ve assumed he was just sound asleep…

But no. He was dead. Arthur was dead, and Lewis killed him.

When the realization swept in, the cloudy rage broke away and fell aside, and the horror of the moment slammed into Lewis like a truck. He made a strangled sound of shock, rolling off of his friend’s body and sliding back across the floor in a panic. He had just-!

“ARTHUR!”

Vivi slid across the ground on her knees, pulling Arthur’s limp form into her lap, and Lewis felt anchor shudder at the sight. She cupped the mechanic’s still face in one hand, instinctively brushing the drying tears from the corner of his eye as she watched, pleading, desperate, for a sign of life that wasn’t coming. As the reality of the situation sunk in, the girl wailed miserably, slumping over and resting her head on Arthur’s vest. Her shoulders hitched and trembled as she sobbed pitifully, and Lewis, vision blurring under a buildup of yet-to-be spilled glittering tears, reached for the pair cautiously.

“...Vivi-”

“Don’t TOUCH HIM!”

Her scream was like a brick wall in between them, and his hand crashed to the floor, followed quickly by a few heavy tears. His anchor jerked violently, and his hand flew up to it automatically. His grip, meant to steady the slow, painful pulse, tightened with each gasping sob from Vivi, translating his crushing guilt and despair into a physical sensation. It felt like every individual bone of his being was in an individual vice, slowly and agonizingly twisting and tightening and pulling him slightly further apart every second.

It hurt worse than dying.

“...how could you?”

Vivi’s voice was softer than fleece, but stung like a hornet. Under his grasp, Lewis could feel a crack worm it’s way through his dimming anchor, and the pain would’ve made him physically ill if he still had a stomach. One of his fingers brushed the crack, and something wet and sticky transferred into the crevice.

Arthur’s blood. His hands were coated in it. He felt like he was drowning in it, like it was leaking into every gap of his form.

“How could you do this?”

His hand fell away from the anchor with a shuddering gasp, though the crushing sensation remained. He raised the hand to his face, pressing into it and trying to hide from his actions as he fell apart. The tears pouring out of his eye sockets in waves streaked down and through the skeletal palm, carrying away the stains of blood and hitting the ground as a dark magenta. Lewis shook his head, denying his intent, denying the situation, trying to choke out a weak explanation. “I...I didn’t want-”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, falling forward and curling his arms around his head as he sobbed into the floor. Across from him, unseen but felt, Vivi glared, clinging to the remnants of his unexplainable cruelty. 

“You killed him.”

He shuddered violently, unable to deny it. He had. Arthur was entirely helpless, could do him absolutely no harm, never _meant_ him any harm…

And he had tortured him, belittled him, and murdered him. 

“It wasn’t his fault, and you still-”

She cut off with a pained gasp, and Lewis felt more cracks spiderweb over the surface of his anchor, reaching down and biting deep into his heart. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain physical form under the dual stress of emotional devastation and supernatural damage, and he briefly wondered if he’d be able to retreat into the locket to heal when it was so broken.

“You’re a monster...”

Lewis wasn’t entirely sure where Vivi had gone; maybe she had said all she needed to, maybe she was suddenly aware that she was taunting a murderer (the thought of her being afraid, genuinely in fear for her survival, of him, hurt like a broken bone) and had run away. Most likely, she was seeking out Mystery to break the news. Maybe they’d bind him to something inanimate, imprison him for his misdeed. Maybe they’d exorcise him. 

As far as he was concerned, he deserved it.

All Lewis knew for sure was that Arthur’s body was far too cold in his arms, and his chest far too still and silent under his skull. The ghost wept into the soft fabric of the bright orange vest, and reached up to tangle his fingers in the boy’s messy hair. He pulled up to glance down once more at the silent, bruised face of the boy he’d loved far too much (not enough, if he could be compelled to do such a thing-), and shut his eyes, nuzzling into the spot where he’d slammed the metal arm only minutes earlier.

“I’m sorry…Artie, I’m so, so sorry…”

He had lost track of his anchor. Maybe it was already shattered. He was too busy crying to really care.

_“_t’s _kay, b__ __y.”_

If he noticed the staticky whisper, not in his ear, but echoing through his entire being, he didn’t show it. A warmth spread up the ridges of his spine, at the edges of his awareness.

_“_____ here, __ _on’t _lame yo_, ___ __dn’t know.”_

The warmth radiated out, pressing against his back and wrapping around his chest like a warm hug. Senses still dulled by a curtain of bitter grief, he nuzzled closer to Arthur, deep heaving sobs tapering off into gentle whimpers.

_“We love you, Lewis"._

The words were clear as crystal, and Lewis’s eyes flickered back in as he felt the ghost of a warm pair of lips press into the center of his skull. His gaze dropped, and his arms shook, robbed of the cold weight they had been clinging to. A strangled cry of despair and confusion rose up out of him, and a fresh wave of tears threatened to stain his ivory cheeks. Soft, fleshy fingers hooked under his jaw, and the dumbfounded ghost allowed his gaze to be redirected upwards.

When violet met amber yet again, Lewis felt his anchor, wherever it was, lurch in disbelief. Arthur, crying, breathing, _alive_ Arthur, tilted his head, smiling down at the frozen ghost.

“Hi Lew.” 

Vivi peeked over the mechanic’s shoulder, grinning with a shaky laugh as she hurriedly wiped away her own tears. “Welcome back, Lew-Lew.” 

Lewis felt a cool, wet nose nudge his hand, and he automatically lifted it without even looking to allow Mystery to nuzzle under it with a happy whine. His other hand slowly lifted, hesitating, before gently pressing into Arthur’s cheek, brushing his thumb across the soft (bruise-free, clean of all traces of blood) skin. He could feel the hand under his “chin” drop away, and watched it come up to hold his own, warm fleshy fingers curling between cold bony ones. Lewis choked, a thousand starting syllables catching in his metaphorical throat all at once, and Arthur took the initiative, confirming the impossible truth. “Still here, big guy.” 

Still here. 

_Still alive._

Arthur was alive and he hadn’t killed him and he hadn’t hurt him and Vivi wasn’t afraid of him and she was happy to see him and Mystery wasn’t mad at him and _Arthur was alive-!_

Lewis cried out as he flung his arm around the blond’s thin waist, and he buried his skull into the plush folds of vest and shirt yet again as he shuddered and wept with relief. Somewhere above, Arthur laughed brightly, wrapping his own arm around the ghost, and the laughs mingled with the steady pulsing heartbeat inches from Lewis’s skull to make the most welcome song he had ever heard. Vivi joined in the embrace, one arm thrown across Lewis’s side and the other snaking around Arthur’s back, and the boys both snagged her with their free arms. The bluenette snuggled in, pressing a warm kiss into the ridge of bone above the dead boy’s eye. She leaned into the embrace with a gentle sigh. 

“We did it, boys. We’re free.” 

We’re free. The implications of her words, and the light banter between Arthur and Mystery, hinted at something Lewis was afraid to learn, but he pushed them aside, content to hold his lovers and let the peace of the moment wash over them. 

They’d won their moment of relief. Everything else could wait until morning. 


End file.
